Planting the Seed
by sloanage
Summary: Everything has it's beginning, even the dreaded Hunger Games, which have seemingly been around forever. Follow this group of tributes, still struggling to stay on their feet after the rebellion, as they're forced into a competition they know nothing about. These are the guinea pigs of the Hunger Games.
1. The Beginning

**The Beginning**

* * *

Waking up in a bed that isn't your own is a good sign that something suspicious is going on. Upon opening my eyes, a simple movement that shouldn't make my skull ache as it does now, I immediately recognize the posh, comfortable environment as a bedroom upon one of the Capitol's ridiculous trains. I've encountered many of them throughout the war.

That's what I don't quite understand. The war is over. The Capitol officially finished us off several days ago. We had agreed to minimal executions and no further consequences other than being forced to bow down the tyrants once again. Whatever is going on now shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't be here, zooming over train tracks, presumably to the golden city itself.

My mind automatically assumes the worst. I was a major contribution to the rebellion. It was my own brother who instigated it all and led the fight to his grave. I was his right-hand man. Whatever is planned for me at the Capitol cannot be pleasant.

You can bet I don't sit around waiting for anyone to come and fetch me. My immediate instinct is to find a way off the train, but I know any effort I were to make would be futile. Instead, I cautiously wander into the hallway, thankful to find that my door is unlocked. I hear the voices of other people making light-hearted conversation down the corridor and make my way towards them. They sit in the dining car, not noticing me as I approach.

"So which one of you do I get to kill for knocking me out cold?" My voice is hoarse and weak. I begin to wonder how long I had been out.

My question definitely gets their attention as the whole group turns to stare at me. They exchange nervous glances before a particularly tall man rises and puts his arm around my shoulder as if we've been best buds for years. I try to step away from him, but his hold is firm.

"Tobias," he says in a smooth, calming voice. "Come with me. I'll fill you in before we arrive."

"Arrive where?"

"Come on."

The others certainly look relieved to be rid of me, and as we walk away, one woman actually lets out an audible sigh, as if she'd been holding her breath since I entered the room.

Still not sure where we are heading, the man leads me to another train car, this one filled with various species of plants and flowers, the roof completely made of glass and large windows that seemingly take up the entire wall. Why a train needs a conservatory, I haven't the slightest idea.

Sitting me down on a nearby bench, the man, who still hasn't introduced himself, begins to speak.

"If you want to kill someone for dragging you here, I guess that would be me."

As tempted as I am to take him up on his offer, I refrain and let him continue.

"I'm only doing as I'm told. We've received these instructions from President Aeron himself. He wants to speak with you privately and in person. It's crucial."

Shivers rush down my spine at the thought of standing face to face with the president of Panem. He won't be thrilled to see me, especially since I was the one ordered to assassinate him several days ago, when the war was in full swing.

"What does he want?"

The tall man shrugs. "He won't tell me. We were only supposed to bring you to him. But if I were to guess, I would say it has something to do with tying up the rebellion."

For a Capitolite, this man is treating me rather civilly, and for some reason, that makes me even more suspicious. "What do you mean?" I demand. "We've already agreed on all the consequences. It's over."

The man wears a pained look on his face, like he doesn't want to tell me something. "Not quite."

"Not quite?" I ask, venom pouring off of my voice.

"There's been talk," he informs me. "Something about some televised event. Supposed to humiliate the districts or something."

I laugh at this. "You think we would be affected by that? No one in the districts care about how we're viewed by the Capitol anymore."

"But you're not the target exactly. It's the youth they're after." My face grows white as he speaks this. What does the Capitol want with our children? "All I know is that this is all being organized by Aeron. And I'm sure you know about his unique sense of humor."

I nod. I do, indeed, know about Aeron's love for all that is sick and twisted. And that scares the hell out of me.

* * *

**A/N:** Hey everyone! Thanks for checking out my story. I could talk to you about all my plans for this and whatnot, but I really would just like to spare you the boredom and skip to the submissions. But first, I would like to fill you in on a few rules and also let you know that Tobias, the charmingly sarcastic man you just met, will definitely be appearing in more chapters ahead.

On to the rules. There are only a few, so just hang in there!

1. A maximum of **three** tribute submissions per person. While I would love to hear all about your amazing characters, we have to allow other people to submit as well.

2. Please know that once you submit your tribute to me, they may not end up exactly as you had imagined. It is, after all, my story, and I'm telling you now, **your character will be altered by the end of the Games**. I don't want anyone coming to me about how I'm writing their character incorrectly, because that's telling me I have to write twenty-four tributes exactly how they were each presented to me and that would make for a very repetitive, boring story. I will most certainly take constructive criticism and something you would like to see in future chapters in the reviews, however.

3. That brings me to my final rule. Please submit your tributes to me through **PM**, not reviews. I simply don't like having several pages of my reviews consist of things that aren't actually feedback. If you do accidentally submit a character on the reviews, I'll simply message you and ask that you PM it to me, then delete the review once you do. It will not harm your characters chance of getting chosen/winning

4. I lied. One more sort of rule. This is the very **first** Hunger Games, meaning the Careers do not exist yet and no one has trained for this. There are no previous victors and the mentors will consist of Capitolites trained for the event. You **can** have older characters be selected for the Games who were involved in the war, however. That way they would have a large physical advantage, similar to the Careers. But remember, not everyone needs to do that. Be original! Be creative!

That's it. The list of accepted tributes can be found below, and even further down is the form. Just PM it to me and you'll see your tribute on the list shortly after that. Have fun!

- Connor

P.S. Sorry, forgot this little piece of information. Please follow my version of the districts for simplicity. I know it's not what you might have imagined, but just be cool and do that for me. Thanks!

* * *

**District 1: Luxury Goods**

Male - Agrius Sevent (HappilyEnding)

Female - Iska Lorelle (HappilyEnding)

**District 2: Peacekeepers and Masonry**

Male - Felix Kory (BecauseofKillanJones)

Female - Breccia Malcor (BecauseofKillanJones)

**District 3: Technology**

Male - Monarch Quinn (Psychopathic Kitten)

Female - Sapphire Curtis (allonsydney)

**District 4: Fishing**

Male - Kai Current (allonsydney)

Female - Gwen Tailor (IceHeart101)

**District 5: Weapons and Explosives**

Male - Rory Fetkenhour(Zach-and-Lulu347)

Female - Alliskette Murray (HappilyEnding)

**District 6: Transportation and Machinery**

Male - Jonson Lanton (FireBird128)

Female - Jay Rolden(FireBird128)

**District 7: Lumber**

Male - Logan Mitchell (allonsydney)

Female - Bianca Floyd (BecauseofKillanJones)

**District 8: Textiles**

Male - Jared Goldman (SlightlyBlackSheep)

Female - Skye Goldman (SlightlyBlackSheep)

**District 9: Power and Electricity**

Male - Spark Sinclair (Spray Painted Monkey)

Female - Madeline Revnell (GirlOnFire4)

**District 10: Livestock**

Male - Beau Dillard (Spray Painted Monkey)

Female - Violet Caine (GirlOnFire4)

**District 11: Agriculture**

Male - Crispin Cranes (Psychopathic Kitten)

Female - Hazel Bainer (Spray Painted Monkey)

**District 12: Mining**

Male - Jordan Cray (FireBird128)

Female - Angel Spiran (SlightlyBlackSheep)

* * *

**Name:**

**Gender:**

**Age:**

**District (Top 3):**

**Appearance:**

**Personality:**

**History:**

**Family/Friends:**

**Strengths:**

**Weaknesses:**

**Weapon of Choice:**

**Willing to Join an Alliance?**

**Why Should They Win?**


	2. District 1 Reaping

**District 1 Reaping**

* * *

_Agrius Sevent, District 1_

* * *

So much has happened in the few weeks since the war officially ended. The announcement of the strange new event known as the Hunger Games, the frightening appearance of the Peacekeepers, and small skirmishes are still popping up in various districts, though not so much here in District 1. We've accepted our loss and are ready to move on. Besides, if I recall correctly, we were the last district to agree to the rebellion, anyway. We had always been the Capitol's favorite and weren't willing to endanger that. But hey, the past is the past and you can do nothing but move forward from it.

I keep this thought in my head as I turn off the TV, which was broadcasting the seventh strangling to occur here in the district this past year. It was yet another teenage girl with a face that defines beauty. The reporters aren't yet releasing the name of Rosemary Santino.

A smirk packed with resentment spreads across my face. I only know the girl's name because I was the one who killed her.

Before you go making assumptions, no, I'm not a psychopath or anything. I'm quite sane. I know, that's exactly what a psychopath would say, but just trust me on this one. I'm by far the most attractive boy in my district, a guy most girls can only dream of being with. You can guess how shocking it is when someone declines the opportunity to have a little fun with me. That's simply something that doesn't happen.

Those girls soon learn that I always get my way.

It's been that way ever since I was a child. I happen to be the son of District 1's mayor, making us the wealthiest family in the district. That's saying something, considering that most others have their own line of expensive jewelry. I grew up in luxury, never being denied much of anything. Call me spoiled, I don't care. As long as I've got an entire floor of the house to myself, a personal chef that cooks all my meals, and two loving, wealthy parents, you can call me whatever you want. I'll still be better than you.

"Agrius," my father calls from somewhere downstairs. "Are you dressed? The reaping begins in less than an hour."

I quickly glance at the clock hanging above my television and see that he's right. "I'll be down in a minute!" I shout back, sliding off my bed.

As I hastily pull off my pair of jeans and slip into dark gray dress pants, I think about what this reaping will be like. You'd expect me to be nervous, seeing as I could potentially be thrown into a fight to the death within the hour, but I'm really in an okay mood. After all, I'm eighteen, and next year I'll be too old to compete anyway. Plus, I'm the son of the mayor. We supported the Capitol throughout the entire rebellion. The Hunger Games are supposed to punish the rebels, not us.

Now in just my dress pants and shoes, I grab a freshly washed V-neck off my dresser and put on a dark vest over it. Not too dressy, but apparently it's the newest fad in the Capitol, and I'm all about looking my best.

Making sure my silvery blonde hair is perfectly spiked, I flash an award-winning smile at my reflection in the mirror, satisfied with my appearance. Unlike most of the district, I won't arrive wearing layers upon layers of flashy jewelry and other accessories. Most of that simply looks silly to me.

Set to head off, I bound down the stairs and out the front door of the main hall, assuming my father has already left. He said something earlier about helping mom prepare her speech for the ceremony. So, I hold my head high and stroll down the street on my own, getting looks of envy from many of the other kids.

It's not long before I reach the square. Pretty much everything in District 1 is still intact, even after the war. The fighting took place mostly in the other districts, and we were left alone. That being said, the square looks fantastic. Aside from it's original appearance, it's also decked out in ribbons and banners and posters, trying to glorify the death match scheduled to begin in about a week. Now, I know I've executed my fair amount of murders, but even I know this is messed up. Forcing twenty-four kids to kill each other is absolutely inhumane. At least I don't go around bragging about my victims like I've done some great deed.

The lack of organization in the square astounds me. Attendance is mandatory, but I don't see any sort of person trying to make sure everyone's here. There's only a massive crowd of citizens surging toward the stage we use for special occasions. Anybody could very easily hurry home unseen.

As I push my way about halfway through the crowd, I stare at the stage which has two baskets resting on a table, a microphone just behind them. Each is filled with hundreds of names, one for every child between twelve and eighteen. I can't tell for sure, but I'm assuming one is filled with boys and the other, girls.

The only other thing I notice is the alarming amount of Peacekeepers patrolling the area, each clad in white, trying to separate the eligible tributes from the adults and younger children. Obviously new at their job, it's amusing watching them try to demand authority. They're not as intimidating as they first seemed, running around in the crowd, attempting to get attention.

After several more minutes of scoping out the crowd around me, someone taps the microphone onstage to make sure it's working. "Welcome, citizens of District 1, to the first ever reaping of the Hunger Games."

Recognizing the voice, I turn to notice my own mother standing at the microphone, looking out over the crowd. I smile when she spots me, and her mood seems to lighten a bit. Despite being the mayor, she's really not very good with people and is awkward in front of crowds.

After she tries to stumble through her prepared speech, she decides to save herself the embarrassment and select the tributes. "We'll start with the girls," she says, stepping to her right so she is positioned behind one of the baskets. She plunges her hand in and picks out a name, opening it slowly. A look of terror takes over her face.

"Oh," she says quietly, her hands shaking. She can't seem to take her eyes off the name. "Oh," she says louder, trying to recompose herself. "Well then, I guess…no, I guess this is the basket for the boys." She looks to one of the Peacekeepers. "Perhaps I should put this back and select a girl's name first?"

"Just read it," the man responds.

My mother opens her mouth to read the name, but is apparently unable to do it. She drops the slip and covers her mouth, tears slipping out of her eyes. She finds me in the crowd and I finally realize why she's so upset.

"Come here, Agrius."

The entire crowd gasps. While I may not be the most liked person in the district, I can tell everyone recognizes that my own mother just sentenced me to death, practically.

All eyes on me, I try to stay calm and say the first thing that comes to mind. "No."

For some reason, I have confidence that my refusal will have some sort of effect. My parents always give me what I want, so why shouldn't they now?

Now beginning to sob, my mother counters, "Agrius, please. Just come here."

I'm beginning to get frustrated. Clenching my fists, I step forward. The crowd parts for me. "I said no, mother. I won't."

At a loss for words, my mother says no more until two Peacekeepers come to fetch me. "I said no!" I shout as they grab my arms. I kick and punch and thrash around, trying to get them off of me. "Let go, I'm not going!"

They drag me toward the stage and I can hear my mother let out a wail. She falls to her knees and cries, dropping the microphone on the floor. When I reach the stage, they release me and I turn to face the silent crowd. Glaring at one of the Peacekeepers, I growl, "Look at what you've done. You've gone and made her cry!" With that, I haul back and slam my fist into his unprotected face, blood erupting from his nose as he staggers backward. The other doesn't know what to do as I tackle him to the ground. "You made her cry, are you happy?" I scream, a few tears flowing from my own eyes as I slam my fist into his face several times.

It takes four Peacekeepers to get me off of him.

"Agrius," I hear my mother say. "Just come here. Please."

Not like I have a choice. I'm thrown onstage and forced to walk toward my mother. She gets to her feet and wraps me in a hug, crying into my shoulder. I'm still furious that she's refusing to let me stay here in the district, but I have to hug her back. It's not her fault. I'll find someone else to blame. Someone else to punish for this.

Seeing as my mother can't emotionally handle drawing the girl's name, a Peacekeeper snatches the first slip of paper he sees and calls, "Iska Lorelle, you're next."

Another gasp is heard, but much quieter this time. There's a long pause before a soft voice from the middle of the audience says, "Excuse me. Thank you. Let me through please." I'm wondering what's taking her so long when she finally stumbles into the open, tripping and landing on her knees. She's a pretty girl, with dark brown hair and a face shaped like a heart. She looks to be fairly young, too. "My cane," she says to no one in particular, running her hands along the ground. "I need my cane."

A young man finds her cane and clutches it tightly, deciding to help the girl up the stairs. It's now that the crowd figures out what's going on.

Iska is blind.

As she approaches me, with the help of the young man, I can make out her milky blue eyes and the fresh scars across her face, from the injury that must have blinded her. She stops a few inches from me and turns to the boy who assisted her. "Thank you," she says in a soothing tone. She takes her cane from him and tries to give him a hug, but she can't seem to locate his body until he grabs her himself and returns to the audience.

My mother tries her hardest to close the ceremony, but it's a mess. I stand behind her, fists clenched, as Iska absentmindedly plays with her cane, seeming ridiculously calm about the whole situation. We're told to shake hands and I have to grab hers first.

"Pleasure to meet you," she says.

"Yeah."

I drop her hand and look away. Okay, she can't see. But that won't make killing her any more difficult. Like I said, I always get what I want. And right now, what I want is to come home alive. And I am willing to kill every tribute that stands in my way, Even a blind little girl from my own district.

* * *

**A/N:** Hey guys! I hope you liked the first reaping. You can already see the differences that come with these being the very first Games. No escorts, new Peacekeepers, no tesserae, etc. I'd like to thank HappilyEnding for both of these amazing tributes! Also, so you know, if one tribute doesn't give their point of view in the reapings, they'll have their own Capitol chapter, so everyone gets the same amount of time in the spotlight.

Stay tuned for District 2!

- Connor


	3. District 2 Reaping

**District 2 Reaping**

* * *

_Breccia Malcor, District 2_

* * *

Life in District 2 hasn't been the easiest since the rebellion came to an end. Whether they were for the districts or for the Capitol, basically everyone around here was involved in the battle. We lost the most citizens out of every district, aside from 13, to my knowledge. To top it off, we were recently appointed the district responsible for training Peackeepers. Everyone ages eighteen to twenty-four were drafted into the force and dispersed among the districts, men and women alike. Add this all together, and you basically get a ghost town.

The people who are still here don't like me very much. Or my family. Or my partner in crime, Felix. We fought for the Capitol, having killed dozens upon dozens of our own neighbors. We're pretty much resented by half of the district.

But I don't really care. I never liked these people anyway. I had no problem killing my own sister, so why should I feel bad about killing anyone else?

Felix is really the only person I talk to anymore. He's seventeen now, meaning next year he'll be forced into Peacekeeper training. Then in two years, I'll be next. No one's sure just how long the Capitol is going to keep this rule in place.

Today is the day of the reaping. I'm still not entirely sure what it's all about, but apparently we're being entered in some sort of game that involves competing against the other districts. I really couldn't care less about it, but attendance to the ceremony is mandatory, so I have to be there.

Three knocks on Felix's door and I hear the familiar sound of his feet rushing down the steps to greet me. He pulls open the door and of course, he has to be shirtless.

"God, Felix," I complain. "Put some clothes on."

He smiles wickedly at me and flexes every muscle in his body. "Why? Do you find this…" He winks. "Distracting?" I roll my eyes and guess that he must have just gotten out of the shower. His dark hair is damp and messy and his body has small spots of precipitation all over. He has on a pair of jeans that hang low on his torso, just touching the bottom of his abdomen.

"Let me grab a shirt," he says suddenly. "I'll be out in a minute."

He disappears before I can stop him. I would never admit it to him - or anyone for that matter - but I would've loved for him to stand there for a few more seconds. If anyone found out, I would kill them, but when I'm with Felix, I feel like my heart beats a little faster. It's as if I had just chugged three cups of coffee.

But I do _not_ have a crush on him. I would never. He's my best friend, my fellow soldier. I have no interest in romance.

Still, that doesn't mean I can't acknowledge that he's attractive, right?

"Ready?"

I almost have a heart attack as he returns,startling me as he closes the door behind him. He's slipped into sneakers and a tight, dark green T-shirt. I pull my eyes off his chest and snap out of my daze. "Let's go," I agree with a nod.

We step off his porch and head toward the town square, where the reaping is to be held. As we walk, we get glares from most people we meet, but I can assure you that from the looks we give them, they'll never think of staring at us like that again.

We move in silence for a bit before Felix speaks up. "Look at that." I gaze at where he's pointing and notice a dark blue van parked outside a run-down house. Cars are a rarity here in District 2, especially after the war. Our streets and a good fraction of the buildings are in horrible condition. Most people wouldn't even own a car, so what was it doing here?

"The side," Felix continues, and I see what he means. There's bold red print on the side of the van.

"Aeron Broadcasting Installation Unit," I read aloud. "What are they installing?

"Broadcasting," Felix repeats. "A television."

I examine the house a second time. It looks like they can't even afford new windows (the current ones are on the verge of shattering), how can they be spending money on a television?

Seemingly reading my mind, Felix says, "I think it has something to do with the Hunger Games. You think they're forcing people to watch?"

I chuckle, assuming he's making some sort of joke as we continue to walk once again. "Seriously? Why would they be forcing people to watch? This whole thing is stupid."

Felix shrugs, but maintains his serious expression. "I don't know, as a punishment? Consequences for fighting back during the rebellion?"

"That's ridiculous. Watching some dumb competition isn't going to teach anyone anything."

Felix stops walking. We've almost reached the square, so I guess he figures we have some time to spare. "You really don't know what the Hunger Games are all about, do you? Weren't you watching that TV special the other day?"

"No."

Rolling his eyes, Felix says, "The Hunger Games are a competition put together to remind us that the Capitol is in control at all times. All kids ages twelve to eighteen have the chance of being selected to compete against the other districts in a fight to the death. The last one alive wins."

My face lights up. "You know, that sounds considerably less stupid."

Felix laughs. "I know. Dangerous though. The tributes would have to take extreme caution and not get caught off guard. Victory gets you the glory and riches, but losing would cost you your life."

I glance around at the barren streets. "We're pretty short on teenagers here. What do you think the odds are of us getting picked?"

Felix's face drops a bit and he considers this. "Likely I guess. We're two of what, a hundred maybe? Less?"

"Not sure." I ponder this for a moment. Getting selected to compete would be cool. But what if Felix is chosen as well? It would be just like the times in the war, except one of us wouldn't make it in the end.

"Come on," Felix insists, nudging my arm. "We'll be late if we wait any longer."

Apparently he's right. As we arrive at the square, the ceremony is in full swing. Our pathetic amount of inhabitants are gathered just in front of the stage. Looking around, there seems to be about two Peacekeepers for every citizen present. That thought is sort of unsettling. Most of them are probably former residents of District 2, but a good handful must consist of some brutes from the Capitol.

The area is lamely decorated with silver ribbon and a few posters. A clump of balloons is tied down at the back of the stage and one seems to have gotten loose. A young boy is darting through the crowd trying to catch it before it can get away. Our mayor stands in front of a microphone and is explaining the procedure of the Games and the reaping as we find a spot in the middle of the crowd to watch.

"And so it was decided that two children, a boy and a girl, will be sent to the Capitol every year to compete against the other districts for fame, glory, and honor." He looks nervous and is obviously reciting a speech written for him by the Capitol. "Today, we select the two individuals that will be sent forth under the title of District 2's tributes. The names of the lucky young man and woman are located somewhere in these two baskets." He gestures to the baskets, which are sitting on a table to the side. I hadn't noticed them when we arrived, but they're filled with about fifty slips of paper each, it looks like, though it's hard to estimate from the ground. "Shall we select our competitors?"

The mayor makes his way over to the table and takes a moment to decide which basket he wants to reach out of first. "We'll start with the boys," he declares, shuffling around the names in the basket to the left. He studies them carefully before grabbing one and opening it slowly. "And our male tribute is...Felix Kory!"

There's a half-hearted applause from the audience and I think I can make out the encouraging shouts of Felix's mother from the back of the audience. I look at him, unsure whether to be concerned or proud, and the look of shock on his face doesn't help me make my decision. After a second, he smiles weakly and I notice an optimistic sort of look flash over his eyes. "Hey," he whispers, grabbing my hand and giving it a squeeze. "Maybe I'll finally do something Paloma can't." He winks and makes his way through the crowd, away from me.

I know what he means. Paloma is his younger half-sister. His dad always seemed to think she was the best at whatever she did and that Felix's accomplishments were mediocre compared to hers. Maybe Felix can impress even his father with competing in the Games.

I'm sort of disappointed. I think I wanted to be chosen for a second, get back on the battlefield or something, but now that Felix is going in, I can't wish for that, because that would mean having to kill him. And I can't do that.

"Thank you for your bravery, Felix," the mayor says as they shake hands. Felix wears a proud smile on his face, winning over the crowd I'm sure. I bet he'll have plenty of fans rooting for him throughout this thing.

"Now, for the girl," the mayor continues, sliding behind the second basket. Felix watches in anticipation as the name is selected, probably curious as to who his competition will be. "Breccia Malcor!"

I freeze. That's my name.

Felix immediately looks out across the audience and makes eye contact with me, a terrified expression taking over his previously confident face.

The applause around me washes out my thoughts, but one thing is clearly put together in my brain. Felix and I can't both make it out of this alive.

One of us has to die.

* * *

**A/N:** What do you guys think? I'm not sure how I feel about ending the chapter before she even makes it to the stage, but I figured I'd change it up a little. Leave your feedback in the reviews! District 3's reaping is coming up soon, so look out for that!

- Connor


End file.
